Midnight Viewing
by Tari Roo
Summary: Danny is sick with a fever in Hawaii... Steve likes planning tactical assaults - even if its a just a run to the pharmacy


Title: Midnight Viewing  
Author: tari_roo  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimers: a ficlet meant to bring a smile... therefore in no need of a disclaimer  
Summary: Danny is sick with a fever in Hawaii... Steve likes planning tactical assaults.  
For saphirablue Hope you feel better!

Steve opened the backdoor briskly, energised after his swim, and looking forward to a shower. His phone was on the counter, a muted light blinking indicating a message. Frowning and wondering how he had forgotten it, he snatched it up, hoping it was nothing serious.

Keying the voicemail box, he listened as a long, irritated drawl echoed through the phone. ".. Damn nose! Hey, Stephen, I've caught the damn plague or something from Grace and as much as the idea of throwing up on you is very tempting at times... especially the way you drive... oh... gah!"

Danny's voice faded as he coughed and spluttered, making gagging sounds on the other end. Steve grimaced, feeling his own stomach twist in sympathy. "... bleugh, shouldn't have thought about that. Anyway, listen, I'm not coming in, since its quiet and Kono and Chin can wrangle you for a while. Don't call me – not unless there is a tsunami or something. Call me if there is a tsunami or alien invasion or rip in the space time continuum, although if there was, I could call myself... whatever! Don't call me."

Steve stared at his phone, grinning wryly and shook his head. Only Danny Williams.

On the drive to work, Steve had a brief thought about stopping over at Danny's apartment on the way home and brining him a meal or something. Normally people weren't too keen to eat when they were sick, and Danny was probably one of those people, but the thought would be nice, right?

It was indeed quiet at the office, with mostly reports and planning on the agenda. Short of a call from Governor or HPD on a case, they were set to catch up on paperwork. Contrary to Danny's erroneous opinion, life in the military had trained Steve well in the fine art of succinct report writing, balancing a budget and requisitioning supplies. It only took Danny so long to write reports because he was pedantic about details whereas Steve kept it to the bare minimum. Or the bare assed facts which alluded to a whole of bunch stuff you didn't want to ask about, as Danny described it.

As mornings went it was peaceful, with Chin working on his own reports and liaison stuff with HPD. Kono got the short end and had to wrangle HPD finance into carrying some of the costs Five-0 had incurred in a mutual bust. Mid-morning Steve got a call from a world weary Duke who asked him to call Kono off as she was making the finance staff cry. Steve fought to keep the smile of out his voice as he replied, "Sure, just as long as understand she'll just call again tomorrow."

Five minutes later Kono stuck her head into his office and beamed, "They caved. Lunch to celebrate?" Steve nodded, still stuck in his own minefield of government reporting. Taskforce they might be, but they still had to account for every cent. At twelve, they all went out to lunch, and Steve left a brief message on Danny's phone, half hoping the guy would pick up. He didn't and Steve left it – grumpy Danny was no piece of cake at the best of times. The afternoon was even quieter and with the bulk of the work done, Steve let the others go early and headed out. If you weren't going to take advantage of a quiet day, what was the benefit of being the boss.

A quick ten mile run later, he swung past a grocery store to pick up supplies for Danny. Electing to go in completely prepared for all eventualities, Steve stocked up on enough medicine, soup, noodles and tissues to supply a Walking Dead season. He then swung by the only decent Indian curry place in Danny's neighbour and bought a nicely chillied curry. Nothing like chillies to clear out the sinuses. Armed for bear, he headed over to Danny's, whistling as he drove.

The door was unlocked, which was a little surprising, and the front room where the TV and couch were, was dim and stuffy. Grace's stuff was stakced neatly in one corner, but she must have been at Rachel's or a friends as there was no other sign of her. It had been a scorcher of a day, which they had only really felt when they went out to lunch, but no doubt Danny had sweltered through the day... sick and hot in Hawaii. Oh boy.

The tv was on, the flickering light dancing over a huddled bundle of blankets on the couch. The vaguely Danny shaped pile grunted as Steve walked in and he waved back with his various parcels. "I brought the good stuff!"

In the silence of the room, his voice sounded overly bright and loud, and Steve winced belatedly as he 'felt' the glare from under the blankets. "Sorry." Quietly he put the groceries and miscellaneous pharmaceutical products in the small kitchenette and asked softly, "Hey, how you feeling? You need something? I got the works. Hey, is the Princess Bride?"

"G'way."

Steve stared at the silent screen, the diminutive actors riding around on horseback. "What happened to your TV? Shrink it in the wash?"

"Hngh."

Steve cracked a few windows, letting in the cooler night air and the room instantly felt lighter. Perching on the arm of the couch, Steve tried to ascertain the level of 'sick' he was dealing with here. It was difficult to the point of ridiculousness, as despite the heat, Danny was unmoving under the blankets. He was either faking it or trying to sweat out the fever. More horses and knight types rode past in miniature on the screen.

"Willow?"

"Hngh."

"I know that's not Holy Grail. Neverending Story?"

That got an actual cough laugh, and Steve grinned back. "Ok, fine. Lord of the Rings."

"G'way, mean't."

"Well, you're practically hobbit sized so it'd be like watching your autobiography."

Steve could feel the ire, and the heated glare and grinned back at the lump. No doubt Danny was desperate to bark back a rejoinder or retort about idiotic army people, but all he could muster was, "F'off."

"Legend?"

"Hngh!"

"Conan?"

"HNGH!"

"Game of Thrones?"

That got Steve a pale, bare foot emerging from the blankets and attempting to push him off the couch. The attempt failed naturally and Steve smiled. "Tell me you are not watching Gladiator for the 100th time? Wait, is that Michelle Pfeiffer?"

"Hngh."

"Cool." Steve shoved Danny's foot and made space on the couch. Danny grumbled and cursed beneath the blankets but let Steve join him on the seat. It was hot, and Danny's legs were hot so he definitely had a fever. Mentally mapping out a regiment of cold/flu and fever medication, Steve sighed, "She's pretty hot. Definitely on my list."

"Gah'lle."

"Oh, Catherine doesn't mind – she has her own list."

"Hngh."

"Why is the sound off?"

"Hghhg!"

"Oh, sure. Like that makes sense."

After about ten minutes of silent Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Broderick talking animatedly, Steve peeled over the top layer of blankets and revealed a sweaty, pale, very sick looking Danny Williams.

"G'f'off."

Danny battered ineffectually at Steve as he briefly judged his temperature with a quick hand on his head. "Dude, you're burning up."

Danny didn't protest as Steve brought the first round of Tylenol and various other medications. But he did protest moving and they both stayed on the couch, Steve sweating alongside Danny both from the lingering heat of the day, and Danny's fever. "You hungry?"

"Hngh?"

"Curry, from Al's."

"Nthks."

Nodding, but disagreeing, Steve got up and brough the cooling curry over. He opened his portion and the wonderful smell of curry leaves and spices beat back the malaise of illness. "Hmmmmm."

"Hate you."

Digging in, ignoring Danny, Steve buried his rice in sauce and chicken pieces and ate with real relish. "How come he's a wolf now?"

Rolling his eyes, hair plastered to his forehead and skin shiny with perspiration, Danny growled, "Shut up, Give me."

Without taking his eyes off the tv, Steve handed Danny his own curry and watched him eat slowly out of the corner of his eye. He didn't look too bad, even underneath the pale shakiness. Danny had probably slept the whole day, like he should. Sitting up though and eating made him cough and he barely finished his meal. Lying back, and pulling the blankets back over his head, Danny mumbled, "Thanks."

"No problem," Steve grinned as he shoved another mouthful in.

The room was cooler, fresher and despite the lack of sound, when Danny fell asleep Steve stayed to finish the movie. He had figured out somewhat what was going on by practicing his lip reading skills and the climax was pretty decent. Although he did mutter to himself at one point, "Yeah, right – like a horse can do that!"

When the credits rolled, Steve edged his way off the couch, Danny grumbling when he moved. Steve lined up a regimented array of pills, and sprays on the coffee table and kitchen counter, with a large note saying, "Take us!" Satisfied Danny was ok, Steve turned the tv off and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

The next morning, when he got back from his swim and retrieved his cell from the waterproof case, there was a message from Danny. He still sounded terrible and was coughing like a drain but the message was clear enough. "Hey, Steve. Thanks... I had dreams about you turning into a weird ass wolf and trying to convince Kamekona to serve chicken, but still... thanks. I'm still not coming in, since you've left me enough food and supplies to outlast the zombie apocalypse, so... yeah... thanks."

"Anytime bro."

Fin


End file.
